


A spare suit

by Halfling



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, preslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfling/pseuds/Halfling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is trying out new arrows when he accidentally ruins Coulson's suit. Mostly preslash fluff just for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A spare suit

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my [tumblr](halfsuper.tumblr.com).

It started with a suit. Specifically, a ruined suit. Clint decided to practice with his new goo arrows without telling Coulson, and Coulson just happened to be standing too close. It was just bad luck all around, really.

“Um. Oops.” Clint said to break the shocked silence.

“New arrows?” Coulson asked, wiping green gel from his face.

“Latest from Stark. Sorry about the suit.” He stared in horror as the green soaked in and stained where it touched, which on Coulson was basically everywhere…

Coulson shrugged. “I have another in my office. The trick is getting there without making a bigger mess.” He had a half-smile on his face that made Clint relax a bit. He would have expected him to be angry, but then again, he couldn’t remember ever seeing Coulson get angry, so perhaps mild amusement was just his default reaction to everything.

“I can help!” Clint rushed to store his bow and quiver. When he returned, Coulson had taken off his suit jacked and was rolling up his shirt sleeves.

“I think I’ve got it under control, Barton,” he said, rolling his eyes at Clint’s concern.

“No offense, Sir, but you’re dripping everywhere. At least let me get the doors. Fury is going to kill me as is; I don’t need him adding a cleaning bill on top of it.” Clint gave Coulson his best puppy eyes. For all of Coulson’s take-no-nonsense demeanor, the puppy eyes trick worked way more than it didn’t.

Coulson gave in. When they finally arrived at his office, Clint stood inside, not sure what exactly he should do, as Coulson washed his hands in the small bathroom he shared with the office next to his.

“Where did you say you had another suit?” He called to Coulson.

“In the closet. Where else would it be?”

“Right. Of course.” Clint responded. Sure enough, in the closet was hung not one, not two, but three spare suits. Each indistinguishable from the rest except for the shirt color, which ranged from pale yellow to pale purple. “Does it matter which one y— oh.”

Coulson had come out of the bathroom, stripped of everything but his boxer briefs. Clint was so shocked he forgot not to stare.

“Any one will do, thanks.” Coulson said with a smile.

Clint swallowed and handed him one of the suits at random, suddenly very fixated on the pattern of the ceiling tiles. He continued to stand there while Coulson dressed, too mortified to move. He prayed his erection wasn’t obvious. “So, uh,” he began awkwardly, “You always hide all that muscle under a suit?”

“Only for your benefit.” Coulson laughed. “Any idea when the green will fade?”

Clint peeked to make sure Coulson was covered again with a suit before giving him a proper look. Coulson’s face and hands had unmistakable green stains that hadn’t come off with the soap and water.

“Um, I don’t know. The arrows are just prototypes, they didn’t even work right, I’ll have to ask Stark,” Clint said, scratching the back of his neck with one hand.

“How were they supposed to work?”

“Well, the gel is highly flammable, the arrow was supposed to ignite and catch everything the gel touched on fire.”

“You mean to say I should be grateful these are green stains instead of third degree burns?”

Clint froze, only able to stare at Coulson in horror of what he just admitted, but before he could begin to apologize profusely Coulson began to laugh so hard he needed to sit down and by the time Clint joined in he had to wipe tears from his eyes.

When he could breath again, Coulson held out a hand. “I won’t tell if you don’t, deal?”

“Deal,” Clint said, and shook Coulson’s hand with a smile. He turned to leave, but right before he closed the door Coulson spoke up again.

“Oh, and Barton?”

“Yes?”

“For the record, I only wear suits at work; my apartment is a strictly no-pants zone. You’re welcome to swing by sometime if you’d like.”

Clint blushed and had trouble meeting Coulson’s eyes. “Count on it, boss,” he said before ducking out of the door. He headed for the locker rooms, suddenly feeling like a cold shower was very much on the cards.


End file.
